


Seduction

by JMProfio



Category: Pendragon - D. J. MacHale
Genre: Just so much smut, M/M, and i think it's safe to say that I succeeded, at least a little more than usual, because i tend to get little embarrassed writing intimate stuff, i've been trying to get better at writing it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 23:30:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6928783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JMProfio/pseuds/JMProfio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pure smut, I'm not even gonna lie. Based loosely off of this idea where in Soldiers of Halla when Dane realizes he's losing he decides to seduce Bobby to save his own skin. So yeah, lots and lots of Bobby/Dane shipping, and did I mention smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seduction

**Author's Note:**

> [Let me just say I have no excuse. I drew a picture of them dancing and got this idea of a different end to Soldiers of Halla where Dane realizes he's about to lose and decides to save his skin by seducing Bobby. Then this happened, and at some point it drifted really far from the original concept. I have no excuse. I'm not sorry. I regret nothing.]

Bobby wasn't exactly sure what he had expected to see when he entered the Taj Mahal. He had definitely expected the Ravinian makeover—the red and gold tiling, the black warped star on prominent banners over the walls, the overall gaudy appearance... it all screamed _Saint Dane_ to him. There were definitely fewer guards than he had expected; just a few dados roaming the halls, barely paying any attention to him as he made his way through the halls. And that was another thing—the dados weren't trying to stop him. They saw him, reacted for a moment, then just continued on as if it were perfectly normal for an eighteen-year-old rebel to be wandering around the center of Ravinia. It was obviously a trap. Saint Dane _wanted_ him here, for some reason, and it put him on edge. Any moment he'd round a corner and come face to face with imminent death, he knew it.

Or would he?

Saint Dane knew how Solara worked—he wouldn't purposefully kill the Lead Traveler, unless his goal was simply to postpone the battle another ten minutes. Couldn't capture him either, for that matter; it would be easy enough to escape. But then what was he planning? Did he have hostages? Was he just stalling so that he could escape? The anticipation put Bobby on full alert, and by the time he rounded the corner into the refurbished “throne room” of the building he was expecting a full battalion to be waiting for him.

Instead, there was simply a dining table set in the center of the room, with a bottle of wine in the center. Sitting at one end of the table was Saint Dane—now younger, with dark hair and a bright red suit. Bobby attempted to conceal his nerves, putting on his usual cocky mannerisms as he faced his unnervingly calm foe.

“Well, look at you,” he quipped, “All young and regal looking.”

The demon smirked at him, a glass of dark red wine in one hand. “You certainly took your time. Were you planning on making me wait all day?”

The Lead Traveler kept his distance, watching the pale man's strange behavior. To say it wasn't what he expected was the understatement of a lifetime; he had expected a fight, a dramatic confrontation of _some_ sort, but instead he was met with his enemy casually reclining and sipping wine, in a room that Bobby was starting to notice was lit entirely by candles placed around the walls. The entire situation was coming across as a lot more... _romantic_ than he had expected.

Saint Dane rose to his feet, pouring a second glass of wine and holding it out toward the confused teenager. “Care for a glass? It's a Cabernet Sauvignon, vintage 1999. Not the best, but certainly impressive for its longevity.”

Bobby eyed the glass suspiciously, and eyed the demon with even more suspicion. What the _hell_ was he doing? “Do you really think I'm gonna drink that?”

The blue eyed man smirked. “Bobby. We both know I would gain nothing from poisoning you.” He took a step closer, his voice lowering slightly, the smirk never leaving his lips. “I'm simply being a hospitable host.”

“Yeah, well, sorry if I don't like your 'hospitality',” Bobby snapped back. He wanted to take a step back from the taller man, but stood his ground, feigning calm as he became more and more perplexed by the events. There was a strange expression on Saint Dane's face; paired with the normal condescending snark and self-confidence, there was a strange glint in his eyes, a primal haze that Bobby got the impression was only half due to the wine. Wine which, now that he was closer, he could smell on his enemy's breath. Was Dane... _drunk_? The teen glanced over at the wine bottle on the table, noticing that it seemed to be more than half empty. Yeah, definitely drunk. Could he _get_ drunk? It could simply be a ploy to throw the Traveler off, but to what end?

Bobby took the glass, deciding that trick or not, this guy didn't exactly look like he should be holding any more wine. The entire situation struck him as _odd_ , like he was missing something that should have been obvious. He looked down at the glass, not making any indication that he was even considering drinking the crimson liquid.

Saint Dane scoffed slightly, turning away and walking back toward the table. “I assure you it isn't poison. Just fermented grapes, though there are some that would say that's just as bad, especially considering you aren't quite twenty-one. I suppose we could go by European standards.” He poured himself another glass, and leaned on the table as he watched Bobby staring skeptically at the wine. After a moment, he added, “You're probably wondering why I'm not fighting. And before you say anything, I'm not drunk. It takes more than a bottle of wine for me to become significantly inebriated. I can tell that's what you've been thinking.”

_Well, he's not wrong_ , Bobby thought.

“The truth is,” the demon continued, “I'm not fighting you because I don't _want_ to.”

“ _What?!?_ ” The Lead Traveler couldn't hide the obvious bewilderment on his features. What did he mean he didn't _want_ to fight? The war for Halla wasn't just some kid's game, where he could just call a time out whenever he wanted—it was a _war_! And he was just going to _stop_?

“Let me clarify.” He put down his wine glass, and once again approached the perplexed teen. “I have no desire for forfeit the battle. I've worked too hard to lose now, when I'm so close to victory. What I meant was that I don't want to fight _you_.”

Bobby raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “So, what? You want me to go get Uncle Press so you guys can duke it out instead? Not gonna happen.”

Saint Dane smirked. “That isn't _quite_ what I meant.” He was standing very close now, immediately in front of the smaller male, towering over him with a strange expression on his face. “You see, it isn't that I would prefer to be fighting someone else. It's just that I don't want to _fight_ you.”

He leaned forward and pressed their lips together in a rough kiss. Bobby stood stunned, entirely unsure of how to react to what had just happened. Had Saint Dane just... _kissed_ him? Saint Dane. Had just. _Kissed_ him. The moment he came back to his senses, he pulled away quickly and, acting purely on reflex, flung his glass of wine directly at the demon's face. The blue-eyed man wiped the liquid off of his face, not looking entirely surprised, but looking slightly irritated by the turn of events.

“I suppose I deserved that,” he said calmly. “Although that's no reason to waste a perfectly good glass of wine.”

“What the _hell?!?_ ” Bobby exclaimed. “I.. just.. you... _what the hell was that?!?_ ”

“It was a kiss, Bobby. A common sign of affection. Though that probably isn't what you meant.” Saint Dane looked down at the perplexed teen, and smirked slightly. “You are _adorable_ when you blush like that.”

“I'm not having this conversation.” Bobby threw up his arms, turning toward the exit. “I am _not_ having this conversation. I'm just gonna leave, and maybe come back later when we can fight like _actual_ enemies--”

He was cut off as a pair of arms wrapped around him from behind. The scent of spilled wine radiated off of the demon's suit, and his voice was low as he spoke directly into the Traveler's ear. “Do you really think I'm just going to let you leave?”

The Lead Traveler could feel the heat radiating across his face. This is _not_ how he expected this confrontation to go down. He had expected an epic battle, a fight for the life of the universe; instead, he was standing in Saint Dane's arms with a bright red blush across his face. He could feel the tall man's breath on his neck, a not entirely unpleasant tickle across his skin. He could feel the demon's hands wrapped around his waist, a surprisingly warm touch, completely different than the cold touch he had expected. For a moment, he found himself relaxing slightly against the blue-eyed man's chest. Why... why wasn't he fighting this more? Why couldn't he speak, and why was he blushing more than he ever had in his life? Why was he just _standing_ there, letting Saint Dane hold him and run light kisses across his neck?

He turned his head towards the blue-eyed demon, and their lips crashed together, Bobby's hands reaching up to tangle in the demon's hair. Then, just as quickly, Bobby pulled away, pushing Saint Dane back with shaking hands. He could feel the heat spreading across his features, knew he must be bright red by now. His pulse was racing, his heart pounding in his ears. The demon simply watched him, a light smirk on his features, his thoughts impossible to read.

“Um.” Bobby began, and stopped. What was he supposed to say? The first kiss he had been taken by surprise, but this second kiss—that had been a perfectly willing, reciprocated _kiss._ He had just willingly kissed his enemy. He had _wanted_ to kiss his enemy. What exactly was going on? What do you say after something like that? His face was still burning; he couldn't look Saint Dane in the eyes, not with his face flushing like his, with his entire body shaking like he was about to fall over. “I... uh... well.”

“Bobby.” The demon placed a hand gently on the Traveler's cheek, coaxing his head back up until their eyes met. The blush intensified tenfold as Bobby looked up into the icy blue eyes, and his already racing heart picked up speed. Saint Dane spoke quietly, his hand shifting from the teen's cheek to his hair in a surprisingly tender movement. “Tell me, what is it that you want to do right now?”

Beet red and nervous, Bobby tried to look away from the powerful gaze in front of him as he mumbled a response. “Hide under a rock. Disappear entirely. Go back in time and stop this from happening altogether. Kiss you again.”

_Wait, what?_

His thought process came to a screeching halt as he heard his own words. Did he just say that? Did he just admit that he wanted to do that? _Why_ did he do that?

Saint Dane's response was a short smile, slightly less condescending than his usual smirk. Then he leaned forward, mumbling a quiet, “You are _incredibly_ adorable.” Their lips pressed together for a moment, a swift brush of lips before he pulled back, leaving mere inches between their faces.

Bobby frowned. “Stop saying that.”

“I'll stop saying it when it stops being true.”

“Don't think I won't still punch you.”

The demon's eyes narrowed, and he smiled. “You know you couldn't beat me in a fight.”

The Traveler smiled back, knowing a challenge when he heard one. “Wanna bet, pretty boy?”

He swung his fist, and Saint Dane dodged easily, ducking down and kicking out with his leg, connecting with the back of Bobby's knee. The teen fell forward onto the tile, wincing at the sudden impact; he moved to stand up, but a moment later was pushed down onto his back as the demon pinned his arms to the ground, grinning devilishly. The blush began to creep back onto the Traveler's face as he realized their current position; pinned to the ground with his enemy straddling his waist, their faces inches apart.

“Well,” Saint Dane purred, “Isn't this an interesting turn of events.” He leaned down and brushed his lips against Bobby's ear, smirking as the teen gasped lightly. “Wouldn't you agree, 'pretty boy'?”

Bobby attempted to wiggle free of his grip, succeeding only in pressing their bodies closer together as he squirmed. The demon chuckled, trailing his lips teasingly across the younger male's neck and chin before locking their lips together in a passionate kiss. Their tongues entwined together in an intricate dance, their fingers entwining together, heat radiating between them. Saint Dane pulled back slightly, running his hands slowly over Bobby's chest and smirking at the timid reactions the touch elicited from his partner. The pale man's fingers slipped under the pinned teen's shirt, sliding across bare skin as lightly as possible, bringing forth a series of light gasps.

“Absolutely adorable,” he murmured.

“I said stop saying that,” Bobby mumbled in response.

“And _I_ said,” the demon responded, running a nail lightly over the Traveler's nipple and smirking as the action resulted in a quiet squeak of surprise, “I'll stop saying it when it stops being true.”

A grin spread across the teen's face. “Guess I'll have to work on that, then.”

With a swift movement, he sat up and wrapped his arms around the older man's chest, using the momentum to propel them forward until their position was reversed—Saint Dane lying on his back, with Bobby lying triumphantly on top of him, arms still caught in a tight embrace. The blue-eyed man smirked slightly, running his hands along the smaller man's waist with more pressure than before, grinding their hips together in a manner that suggested he was tired of playing games. Bobby groaned in response, pressing back as he felt heat rising through his body. Saint Dane—still very much in control of the situation—moved his hands quickly along the other's body, one hand sliding up to grab a tight handful of the younger man's hair, the other hand sliding down as he dug his nails into the fabric of Bobby's jeans, earning another groan which was swiftly muffled as their mouths crushed together forcefully. As their tongues danced and their breathing became rough and ragged, Bobby's hands moved along the demon's suit, grasping at clasps before feeling along the pale skin underneath. Their bodies pressed roughly against each other, fabric and skin rubbing against skin and fabric as their hands traveled and grabbed and touched. Their lips parted for a moment, but lingered close enough to brush together, both breathing in hot, heavy gasps of air.

“So tell me, Bobby,” Saint Dane whispered huskily, “What is it that you want to do right now?”

The bedroom was as nicely decorated as the rest of the palace, but Bobby hardly even noticed it as Saint Dane pressed him down into the dark velvet sheets, their hands hastily grasping at each other's clothing, fumbling with buttons in an attempt to remove the articles as quickly as possible until finally there was nothing but skin pressing hotly against skin. They both gasped and moaned, arousal growing more demanding and immediate by the moment. The demon raked his teeth along the younger man's shoulder, biting down slightly as he pressed into him and Bobby cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. The Traveler's fingers scratched across the pale man's back, leaving red welts in their path even as sweat beaded in slick pools under his hands. They began to move rhythmically, increasing in speed and urgency as the heat and arousal swelled to a peak and came crashing back down around them in a climatic wave of ecstasy.

Neither of them spoke as the sweat began to cool on their bare skin, or as their racing heartbeats began to calm. The war was far from over—both men were too stubborn to abandon their beliefs in the name of something as commonplace affection—and future battles would eventually have to be fought. But for now, the simple silence permeating the room, the comfort of the plush bed, the feeling of having another person so intimately close—that was enough.

They could always fight tomorrow.

 


End file.
